Not Guilty
by Batya
Summary: Sally was not guilty over his suicide. She wasn't. Rated T just in case.


**Just a nice Sally fic and I don't own anything.**

Sally was not guilty over his suicide. She wasn't.

She told herself this and the people around her unraveled.

Greg, on suspension from The Yard, turned to drink to ease his sorrows.

John, turned inwards, pulling everything inside away from prying eyes.

Even Anderson seemed shaken by the sudden turn of events. When asked about Sherlock he would still scoff before quickly changing the subject.

As for herself Sally had to resolutely chosen to not feel guilty. She had been doing her job and all the evidence pointed to Sherlock. The final fallout was not her fault.

She was ruminating on this as she stared up at the roof of St. Barts. It seemed cruel that after Sherlock had forever marked this landscape she still had to come here for cases. How very like him to find the subtlest and most horrible form of torment. A way to needle her for ages after he was gone.

Sally left a small sigh in her wake as she headed into the building.

She was here to examine a body. Another day, another case. Since his fall she had thrown herself into the work. It filled the time and kept her from thinking about things she didn't wish to. And she also tried not to think about how much she looked forward to the next murder as a means of diversion. She definitely didn't think of how like Sherlock that quality was.

By the time she reached the morgue her mouth was set in a thin line. She wasn't going to think about how she was now in one of his favorite haunts.

"Oh hello, Sergeant Donovan right?" the woman in a lab coat could only be described as mousy at best. Her manner was awkward and jumpy but her smile was bright as she stuck a hand out to shake.

"I'm Molly Hooper, I'm sorry we haven't met sooner but I've been away." She spoke quickly with that nervous smile that seemed poised to falter. Sally slowly reached out and clasped her hand giving it a firm shake before dropping it.

"Hello," Sally said as politely as she could letting her eyes move past Molly to what she assumed was the body she was here to see.

"You…used to work with Sherlock right?" The question startled Sally focus. The hesitance and the stumble over the past tense. Now Sally looked this woman over again. There was the nervousness, the hesitance. But there was something else too. She stood straight and met Sally's gaze directly. She had a little steel in her too.

Sally couldn't help but let her lips quirk into a wry smile.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well…I mean…as much as Sherlock ever worked with anybody." Molly added. Sally looked at her with surprise once again.

"He came here often during cases…" she trailed off a little. Her own bright smile dimmed slightly.

"Well if he ever mentioned me then I'm sure you would know we weren't exactly on good terms." Sally told her trying not to snap. Why was she suddenly angry? She brushed past Molly towards the body in the bag on the slab.

"I'm sure he doesn't blame you for your part in it." Molly said softly, almost gently. Sally froze, slowly she turned to look at Molly. Molly met her gaze with a determined gaze.

"You were all being manipulated by Moriarty. It wasn't your fault. I'm sure he doesn't blame you."

Sally stared at her in utter gobsmacked silence. After a minute or so of that Molly stepped forward, suddenly all business.

"This is Arthur Shappey, killed two days ago on an airplane over Sussex…" Sally focused on the task at hand and took notes. It was only when she left, after sparing Molly a genuine smile, that she wondered over the use of present tense. 'He doesn't blame you' she had said.

Standing outside St. Barts she stared up at that roof again and wondered.

Many months later when truths unfolded and were laid bare she finally was face to face with Sherlock Holmes. The fake, the liar, the freak, the genius. And at the end of the long list he was still just a man. An annoying twat of a man.

But she faced him and remembered Molly's strange statement from what seemed like ages ago. Sherlock no longer looked like the posh prick from before. His clothes fit him more loosely, his cheekbones stood out sharper on his face. There were dark circles under haunted eyes. John hovered close by his side. Protective and stoic as ever.

"Molly Hooper said you don't blame me for my part in what happened." She told him

"She was correct in her assessment." He told her, crisply biting off each syllable. He sounded exactly the same and yet suddenly he was stating facts that didn't hurt. It threw her a little off balance.

"You're still an ass." She said.

"And you're still a terrible excuse for law enforcement." He replied. John stood between them looking almost irritated with them but Sally smiled a little. She never was fond of change anyway. Sherlock gave her a small smirk in return.

She had never been guilty over the fall.

And now she definitely was not happy with his return.

**Basically I really got into Sally Donovan and discovered there are not enough nonromantic fics about her and Sherlock(sorry to any fans of that pairing but its not my thing)**  
**So this happened. **  
**Molly's my other fav Sherlock lady so any time I can insert her into a fic is a happy day for me. **  
**Also yes indeed in this fic I killed Arthur Shappey. Sadly for him I think someone on MJN ran out of patience.**


End file.
